Missing Names
by Loki Mischeif-Maker
Summary: The last few weeks of Regulus Black's life were full of finding answers when he wasn't even sure of the questions, a search for Nymphadora Tonks's missing parents, and, ultimately, a choice between doing the right thing and surviving.
1. Black Eyes

**Disclaimer:** No, as a matter of fact I am _not_ JK Rowling, which means I cannot possibly own the Death Eaters or the House of Black.

* * *

Regulus Black's left thumb and index finger had not budged from his glasses lens since entering the pub. Had his cousin Bellatrix not been drunk, she may have remembered that this was Regulus's subtle indication that the subject was making him nervous and he wanted it changed.

Then, drunk or not, Bella probably didn't care about his state of mind, particularly not mid-rant.

". . . I mean, it's just ridiculous, what the Ministry is doing," Bella slurred, waving her glass vaguely in the air. "I . . . I don't think they e'en honestly think that it'll stop ush—"

"Bella, you're drunk," Regulus muttered, wishing Rodolphus was around. In his way, Bella's husband was just as much of a fanatic as she was, but he could stop Bellatrix's drunken rants. He knew it was a security risk, which was a lot more convincing than the only excuse Regulus could usually think of to stop her, which was what she was saying was _stupid_.

"'M not," she retorted. "But it's not as if we aren't _already_ riskin' death, fighting for the cause. It's not like _legalizing_ it's gonna scare us, now ish it?"

Regulus found the possibility of death quite frightening, but she had a point in that it was hardly a new fear.

"S'mattor-o-fact," Bella continued, this time waving her wand instead of her tankard. Regulus eyed it cautiously, wary of another night that would end in her cursing somebody. " I think I'd _rather_ be _Avada Kedavara'_d or whatever spell they'll use in itsh place than lang . . . langui— sit around in Azkaban."

"Reinstating burning would be more effective, yes," Regulus muttered, moving his glasses down and back up his nose to remind Bella he was clutching them like a lifeline. She didn't appear to notice, and he couldn't help but wonder if he was only encouraging her with his vague muttering.

"I mean, if Crouch thinks he can stop us by fightin' a house fire with . . . I dunno—"

"Fire?" Regulus suggested under his breath.

"—a torch," Bella continued, glowering at her younger cousin for interrupting, "he's got another think coming." Regulus was impressed. He hadn't thought she was to the meaningless metaphors yet. "Aurors don't have killin' in 'em, or at least most of 'em don't."

"I'll agree with you there, and I'll agree with you that it was a stupid move— it'll only anger some people more— but I won't agree with you that it was pointless," Regulus answered, biting down on his lip about five seconds too late, after the words had already left his mouth. He hadn't had enough Firewhiskey to claim it had been doing the talking, so he could only assume he had some subconscious death wish. Contradicting Bellatrix Lestange, after all, was never a good idea.

She just stared at him for a few minutes, trying to process this information. "Oh, really?" she asked at last.

"Yes, Bella, really," Regulus answered, tugging more urgently at his glasses. Still, it was better to be hanged for a sheep than for a lamb. "Whatever else, it sends the message that the Ministry means business. It's getting rid of the Aurors' legal barriers to bringing us in. Crouch is not going to put up with any more failed captures because the only thing that would keep someone like _you_ in place, Bella, is breaking every bone in your body, or possibly decapitation, although the last would result in a rather bloody-minded ghost."

Rather than immediately curse him, Bellatrix seemed to contemplate this for a little while. "Maybe you're right. I still think it was pointless in the sense of accomplishin' something tangible."

"It doesn't have to accomplish something tangible," Regulus answered irritably. "At this point in the game, psychological warfare is practically _required_."

A long, slow grin crossed Bella's face, which was somehow scarier than her scowl. Her hand— the left one that until a few moments ago had been holding her drink rather than her wand, unfortunately— curled around Regulus's own half-balled fist. "You're learning," she announced.

An involuntary shudder ran through her little cousin. He was learning all right. Learning just how deep he was getting into an organization he wasn't sure he really believed in, and learning from his mother and Bellatrix just how thin the line between unwavering family loyalty and mindless pureblood loyalty really was. Unfortunately, Regulus's definition of family didn't necessarily end with those still on the tree, and somehow, in the desperation to please the mother who was never satisfied, he'd wound up on the opposite side of a war than his missing brother.

Regulus turned his right hand over, wrapping his fingers around Bella's wrist, and stood up. "You're getting too ranty to be in public," he told her softly. "Let's get you home."

"'M not," Bella mumbled.

"Yes you are. A few more Firewhiskeys and you'll be going on about _his_ plans rather than Crouch's."

Regulus felt Bella stiffen a little in his hand, aware of who he was talking about. "I wouldn't . . . Regulus, you know I'd never—"

"You're too passionate to think when you're drunk, honey," Regulus interrupted. "Besides, Rodolphus told us to get you back before midnight, and how are you ever going to live down your 'There is absolutely nothing wrong with my memory' speech if you don't manage it?" Really, he just wanted Bella in bed, where she couldn't do much damage to anyone. Rodolphus would be amused, yes, but he was bright enough to let things go quickly when it came to his wife.

Reluctantly, Bella let him pull her to her feet and tucked her wand into her pocket. "All right," she mumbled. "Let's go home."

Regulus smiled grimly, happy to have his way even with a few white lies, and led her outside, still with his fingers curled around her wrist. After all, while the pub was wizarding, it was spelled to be invisible in a mostly Muggle village, and he didn't want Bellatrix deciding to amuse herself in untoward and incredibly _public_ ways. He nodded to the barman and pulled her outside.

"Dad?" a young female voice asked as soon as the door swung closed.

The street was completely deserted, so Regulus assumed the girl must be speaking to him, and he looked around towards the voice. "Erm . . . no," he said a few seconds before he found her, standing on the sidewalk and wide-eyed, peering into the dark.

"Oh," she said. She had brown hair done up in a braid and looked about six. "Sorry. It's just that I can't find him _or_ Mum and sometimes when Mum goes looking for him she tries the Dancing Dragon."

Regulus relaxed. At least, despite the Muggle clothes, he was talking to someone with a wizard for a father. "What are you doing out here so late, anyway? Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"Can't sleep. Someone broke the lock and I've gotta find Daddy and tell him."

"Thieves?" Regulus asked nervously. He had to get Bella home before she did something stupid, certainly, but it might also be a good idea to take this girl to an Auror or Muggle law keeper.

The girl stared at him for a moment and crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't even know who you are. Why're you asking so many questions?"

"Because I'm concerned—" Regulus started, but Bella interrupted him.

"What's your name, little girl?" Her wand was in her hand— funny, Regulus could have sworn she'd put it up— and there was a nasty glint in her eyes.

The girl hesitated. "Nymphadora," she said. "But everyone calls me Nym. Why? Did Mum or Dad send someone looking for me?"

"What about your last name?" Bellatrix asked.

"You're not supposed to give strangers that," Nym told her, staring at this woman as if she'd gone insane. "Didn't they tell that you in day school?"

"You're in the wizarding world at the moment, Princess," Bella answered, jerking clumsily out of Regulus's grip. Regulus made a move to restrain her again, but she slid out of his reach. He'd tried to do it too many times. "Your last name may make you safer here."

Nym looked skeptical.

"And if it doesn't . . . if your daddy never taught you that, it means you're a Mudblood," Bellatrix continued. It was amazing how much clearer her voice was out in the cold March air than it was in the pub— as if she wasn't drunk at all, as if the anticipation of an attack— maybe even a kill— was sobering. "It just means your getting yourself into more trouble by existing. And maybe I ought to get you out of that trouble." She raised her arm.

"Bella, lay off," Regulus said quietly.

Bella's nasty smile, however, only widened.

She was still acting drunk, Regulus realized, only not drunk from alcohol— drunk from power. This was how Bella thrived, those few moments before she killed someone just for having the wrong parents. It sickened Regulus. He was dimly aware that there was too much prejudice in his background for him to have problems with laws, but killing—but _genocide_— was so much more than laws.

The girl evidently knew enough about the political climate to realize how much danger she was in. Her eyes widened to the size of Galleons, and Regulus realized something.

"Bella, _lay off_," Regulus repeated, more urgently. He grabbed her wrist to emphasize his point. "Those are Black eyes."

"They look gray to me," Bella answered, pulling out. "And I don't see why the color matters."

"They _are_ gray," Regulus answered, reaching for her arm again. She jerked out of the way, but at least it kept her from aiming. "That's my point. They're Black _family_ eyes." He turned to Nymphadora, who was watching this exchange fearfully. "Your last name's Tonks, isn't it?"

She nodded.

"What does that matter?" Bellatrix demanded.

"Bella," Regulus growled. "That is _Andromeda's daughter_. You aren't thinking about killing your own niece, are you?"

"Meda knew the risks when she married filth."

Regulus grabbed her wrist again, and this time it was with both hands. Bella tried to pull out, but he held on stubbornly. "So that's it, then? It doesn't matter that she's your own sister's blood? That . . . that— dammit, Bellatrix— that she's part of the House of Black?"

"Don't question your elders, Regulus."

Part of him cringed. Bella had never taken that tone with him before— the cold, emotionless tone she took with her victims. She'd been condescending, she'd been pitying, and on few enough occasions he remembered all of them, she'd even sounded proud, but she'd always spoken to him as if she felt _something_ when she looked at him, and somehow this indication of nothingness was worse than her fury.

At the same time, he rallied. He'd keep his doubts about Mudbloods to himself, but he could afford to be open about his opinion of Black blood. "I'm not questioning you, Bella," he said quietly. "I'm telling you're wrong. I don't like killing for fun, but if that's how you get your kicks. . . ." He shrugged. "I'm not, however, going to sit here and watch you kill your unarmed, untrained niece because you're drunk and looking for a fight."

Bella yanked. Hard. Her arm slid between Regulus's fingers, and he stumbled forward with the force. "I thought you'd understood, Regulus," she said. Her voice wasn't fathomless anymore; she was enraged. Regulus knew he was in for the Cruciatus if he didn't move fast, but somehow that was an improvement. If she thought you were human enough to loose her temper at, she wouldn't kill you just yet.

"Oh, I understand. And I'm not entirely sure our _Dark Lord_ is pureblood," Regulus replied.

"He's descended from Salazar Slytherin, of course he's pureblood."

"I'll let you in on a secret from my father's research, Bella— Salazar Slytherin's line _ends_," Regulus snapped. "I think he's lying."

Bella's face darkened further, her usual dark beauty twisted entirely out of shape. "How dare you . . . ?"

"By putting things together in my moments of sanity. Yes, I have them," Regulus answered. Before she could aim at him, he pulled out his own wand and strode over to the girl, grabbing her arm. "Do you think you can trust me?" he whispered.

"I . . . dunno."

"Try."

Bella's mouth curled again into a nasty smile. "You aren't trying to _defy_ me, are you?" she asked.

The Slytherin sarcastic streak took over, despite feeble protests from self-defense mechanisms. "I'm not _trying, _Bella dear. I _am_."

"_Sectumsempra_."

It wasn't what Regulus had been expecting, but it was nearly as painful as it ripped his chest open. He bit his lip, pointed his wand at his chest, and thought every healing spell he could think of, but he wasn't sure if that accomplished anything or Bella just didn't put enough effort into it to make the cuts _really_ deep.

Bella looked down at her wand, and Regulus realized she was swaying slightly. Thank Merlin she was drunk, really. "Missed," she mumbled.

"You were aiming at _her_—?" Regulus cut himself off, grabbed Nymphadora's shoulder with his other hand, and Apparated to Diagon Alley— the first safe place he could think of to land— before she did any more damage.

**

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Author's Note:** The idea of writing a multi-chapter fic concerning Regulus and Nymphadora Tonks occurred to me about halfway through In the Waiting Room of St. Mungo's, which was, incidentally, _not_ a story with which I could do so. Somehow my soft spot for Mr. Black worked its way in and I wound up with a workable plot. . . . I can't guarantee the regularity of updates I have with Double Trouble, but at the same time, as much fun as that AU is, there is something a little more satisfying to a Marauder era girl about slotting an original story more of less into cannon. . . . So, opinions, anyone? You know you want to review! Cheers! — Loki 


	2. Explanations, Please

When Regulus landed in Diagon Alley, it wasn't solidly. It probably couldn't be, when only half his mind had been focused on the desperation to get away, and the other half reeled in pain. He let go of Nym as he stumbled forward and hit the ground shoulder first. _Hard._ There was a moment of silence as he looked up at the stars, his gaze landing on Orion and by necessity Bellatrix's namesake forming the mythical man's shoulder. "Damn," he mumbled.

Then he let out an inarticulate moan, because with ripped robes and two gashes on his chest, he felt entitled. "I see Severus Snape taught Bella a trick," he mumbled. "I'm not sure which to kill."

"Are you all right?" Nymphadora demanded. From the looks of it, she'd hit the ground, too, but had been sensible enough to roll with it rather than skid as Regulus had done.

Regulus sat up, rubbing his shoulder. He'd ripped the seam and there was yet more blood from a scrape, but compared to the throbbing Bella had left in his chest it was nothing. "I'll recover," he answered simply. "Now . . . where is it you live?"

"I'm not going home," she answered stubbornly. "I dunno where my parents are and the door won't lock." She hesitated. "And how did you know my last name?"

"I'm your mother's cousin. Call me Reg."

"Cousin Reg?"

"If you insist." Regulus got to his feet, still holding his wand out no matter how much it would hurt to wave it. Fortunately, at eleven thirty at night the street was almost guaranteed to be deserted. This well-known fact was not, however, enough to make him put his wand up just yet.

He laid his other hand on Nymphadora's shoulder. "Where do you want me to take you, then?"

"I'll go with you," she answered. "You saved me from that scary lady, and your Mum's cousin. I don't think Grandma would be very happy if I showed up this late, and I'm really not sure where she lives now that I think about it, and there's really no one else I can go to."

Regulus sighed. "Must you?"

Nymphadora nodded. "Maybe you can find Mum."

"I doubt it. The reason you never hear from your mum's relatives is that we aren't in contact with her much anymore. That 'scary lady' was you aunt."

Nym frowned. "Well, she did look a little bit like Mum, but . . . she couldn't've been. My _dad's_ a Muggle-born."

"Yes, she was. Your mother's maiden name was Black, and that—"

"I _know_ that."

"But I don't think you know what it actually _means_," Regulus snapped at her."We aren't a fluffy welcome-to-the-fold family. Your mum used to complain that we looked at potential husbands for our daughters the same way horse breeders looked at stallions for their mares, and she was damn right. And so when she ran off with the wrong man, my aunt and uncle pushed her out of their lives without another thought. _My_ parents are second cousins for roughly the same reasons. You're pureblood and either share my mother's politics or don't have any opinions, otherwise you're not a Black. . . ." He shook his head, not sure a six-year-old could possibly pick up on these nuances. "And this isn't the place to be having a discussion. I'll take you back to Grimmauld Place, but only to get out of the open. All right?"

"All right. Are you going to Apparate us again?" she asked. "Only it wasn't very comfortable."

"I'm too tired to do it again, anyway. I'd splinch us both into a million pieces," Regulus answered. "Which is of course no more than I deserve for not Apparating you out of there at once. But I can't keep you from splinching, too. The Leaky Cauldron's open at all hours, so we can floo home from there."

He took her by the elbow and steered her down the street, tapped the wall, and continued to mutter inarticulate curses. Nymphadora was fascinated by the moving bricks. "Mum doesn't take me here very often," she announced.

"That's because Meda's a bright girl, and she knows these are dangerous times to be out, 'specially at night."

"_You_ were out at night," Nym accused.

"Yes, but I was with Bella, and nothing with an ounce of sense attacks Bellatrix Lestrange," Regulus answered, shoving her into the Leaky Cauldron as gently as he could.

Tom the barman looked up from cleaning glasses when he entered and his skin went the same white as his hair. "Oh, dear Merlin! Has there been an attack?"

"Well over a hundred miles north of here," Regulus assured him. "There are so many protections around my house that I'm not sure I could get in there, and Diagon Alley was the only other place I could think of to Apparate."

Tom nodded. "Was it just you and your daughter and an attacker, then?"

Regulus wondered absently how Tom could possibly think he was old enough to be Nymphadora's father. She was six, after all, and he eighteen. "My cousin, actually," he answered. "But otherwise yes."

"You looked pretty banged up."

"I'm going to go home and hope we aren't out of really _strong_ cutbane," Regulus replied. "Can we use the floo?"

Tom nodded and gestured to the fire. Nymphadora strolled over and threw a handful of the powder into the flames. "What's the address?" she asked.

"We're going together," Regulus told her firmly, taking her shoulder and stepping into the green flames. She joined him in the fireplace and he put his other hand on her other shoulder. "Twelve Grimmauld Place."

Everything that followed passed by in a blur, until Regulus stumbled around Nymphadora for the second time in ten minutes and into his own kitchen. Once again he wound up sprawled on the floor, although this was not an unusual result of traveling by floo and Nym once again joined him on the ground.

Anna, Regulus's cat, had been waiting for him to come back, and probably had since he'd left. The last thing he'd heard before Apparating with Bella had been her indignant mewing— although he'd left her behind because she hadn't taken a shine to Bellatrix, who kept threatening to skin her. Now, she leapt onto her master's lap and rubbed up against him, purring.

"Ann! Ow! Get _off_!" She was pressing against his cuts, bloodying her gray tabby fur and hurting him. Regulus picked her up and handed her to Nym, who accepted her wordlessly.

Footsteps came down the stairs. "Reg?"

Regulus stiffened until he realized it was his father rather than his mother calling. "Kitchen!"

"All right. I'm glad you finally came home. It was getting late enough that I was starting to worry," Orion Black announced, pushing open the door and putting his glasses back on as he did so.

In less than a second, he took in Regulus's bloody and torn robes and Nymphadora's presence and came up with half the answer. "Oh, my God. Reg, what _happened_?"

"Got attacked," he grunted, getting to his feet and putting his wand on the table. He made his way over to the potions cabinet and started going through it.

"Tell me something I _don't_ know," Orion muttered. "Who? How? I thought I'd made Bellatrix promise to protect you."

Regulus shrugged, deciding to ignore his father's implied lack of confidence in his ability to look after himself. Orion was paranoid and prone to worrying, which was why his hair was gray streaked with black at forty-nine— sprightly for a wizard— and probably why he'd had three heart-attacks in the past ten years. How he'd actually _survived_ them was anyone's guess. Overestimating his children and underestimating their enemies was not something he was likely to do. "Bella _was_ the attacker, Dad."

"Damn. Wh—" Orion stopped, shook his head, and turned to matters Regulus expected he found slightly more pressing. "Who's the girl?"

"Nymphadora, although she said to call her Nym. She's Meda's daughter."

"Ah." Orion glanced at her with a distracted smile— he'd always been fond of Andromeda, Regulus assumed because she was one of the few Blacks who was as quiet and bookish as he was, and he'd never really stopped speaking of her as if she could pop in at any time. Then, concerned once again, he turned back to his son. "What are you looking for?"

"Bruise balm. I've got one hell of one on my shoulder where I hit the ground."

"I'm afraid we haven't bought it since Sirius ran away. He was always the one who needed it," Orion answered, coming up behind his son and laying a tentative hand on Regulus's shoulder. "Regulus, I want to know more about what happened. Now. Bella doesn't attack people randomly."

"Any daughter of Meda's can only be half-blood. She married a Muggle-born, and you know what Bella thinks of Ted Tonks," Regulus reminded him. "Ah. Here we are." He pulled a dumpy black bottle out of the cupboard and turned it upside down. "No, this expired last _year_. Why didn't Kreacher get rid of it?"

"Probably isn't empty, and it'll still be the only one we've got. Although," his father added dryly, "if you intend to make this a habit, we'll have to invest in some more. You'd be better off looking for cutbane, anyway."

"No, I wouldn't. She used a severing charm on me— well, she was aiming at Nym but I got in the way— so cutbane isn't going to work."

Orion spun his son around and grabbed him under the chin. "Well, I hardly expected my dear niece to use a knife," he said quietly. "Anyway, I'm capable of the healing charms to rival cutbane and bruise balm, at least, and you would be too if you weren't so out of it from blood loss. And I still haven't gotten a good explanation. Where's Meda and her husband?" He shook his head. "But first, let's get you cleaned up."

☐☐☐

Thirty minutes later, Regulus was sprawled on the sofa with his shirt unbuttoned, muttering, protesting, and occasionally cursing as his father played with healing spells and the potions spread across the coffee table, which dittany featured heavily in. He wasn't a skilled enough healer for Regulus to dignify it as anything but playing, and he'd told Orion this at least twice.

The second time, Orion just smiled grimly and looked from his son's chest to his face. "Do you have any other ideas?" he asked mildly. "Anyway, hold still while you think of them; you're struggling and whimpering worse than Nymphadora did."

"Nym," she muttered. "It's Nym."

"All you had to heal on her was a bruise where my fingers had dug in too hard," Regulus growled, taking a different route of protest. "I don't think the comparison is apt. And dammit, Dad, this _hurts_."

"You expected anything else?"

"_Daaad_."

"All right, all right," Orion muttered. He waved his wand, summoning bandages from nowhere to wind themselves around Regulus's chest. "You're lucky Bella was drunk and not too focused, kid. Otherwise some of these might have been deep enough to kill."

"I _know_ that."

"Yet you still got in her face," Orion muttered. "I thought the hat put you in Slytherin. From what I've picked up, this was idiocy worthy of your brother."

"If I hadn't gotten in her face, as you put it, she would have killed Nym."

"Oh." There didn't seem to be anything else he had to say on the subject, and the tone said it all. Clearly from Orion's viewpoint, the possibility of death changed everything, and acts of stupidity became acts with a perverse sort of sense to them. "Well . . . that should do it for the cuts. I put enough magic on them they'll have closed up by the morning, although probably with scar tissue."

"Enough magic . . . I guess that explains why it feels like someone's sitting on my chest?"

Half a grin flashed unbidden across Orion's face— Blacks learned to develop a grim sense of humor, and by now it seemed encoded in the genes. "Button your shirt back up and move so the rest of us can sit down, will you?" he asked. "Then I want the full story."

Regulus sat up and moved over so Orion could sit down beside him. Nym, still clutching Anna, crawled onto Orion's lap. Regulus half-expected him to push her back off, but as his father's arms snaked comfortingly around the girl's shoulder, he realized he was thinking in terms of his mother. In fact, he realized that the conversation had thus far lacked such pointed, Walburga-like questions as, "Who the hell's the girl?", "What _have_ you done to yourself, Regulus?", and "For Merlin's sake will you stop _defending_ the boy, Orion, you did it all the time with the other one and it drove me mad!"

"Where's Mum?" he asked.

"She and Druella are at some kind of convention in Scotland. She shouldn't be back for another week," Orion answered. "Why?"

"Well, what do you think _Mum_ would say about having a half-blood in the house, even if she is her great-niece?"

"Point taken. Now, explanations, please."

Regulus gave them. ". . . and then I told her I wasn't sure if the dark lord was _truly_ pureblood and she _really_ lost her temper with me—"

"Hold on. What?"

"He says he's descended from Slytherin, Dad. That's not possible."

"Well. . . ." Orion shook his head. He'd spent most of his life trying to retrace the Hogwarts Founders' lines, so he was one of possibly half a dozen people to know for sure. "It does end, but there _is_ something. . . ." He shook his head. "Kreacher!" he barked into the thin air.

There was a crack as the house elf appeared rather than bothered to run down the stairs. Nymphadora shrank against Orion at his sudden appearance, and Regulus supposed that house elves _did_ look bizarre if you'd never seen one. "Yes, Master?"

"Go get me the Gaunt file. It should be in the bottom drawer of my desk. There's something I need out of it, but I've spent the last three weeks on Gryffindor. I'm sure your mistress has complained about how bad my memory's gotten."

Kreacher nodded and scurried off.

"You let him go through your desk?" Regulus murmured. Personally, he barely trusted the house elf in his room anymore, and Orion was more paranoid than he was. Then, Orion also probably had less to hide.

"Only when I'm too lazy to go up and get something to show to a guest. Usually the Gaunt file," Orion answered, shrugging. "There's not usually anything sinister a man— or an elf— can get out of a family tree. Tonight, though, there may be an exception."

**

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Author's Notes:** It is quite difficult to keep Nymphadora in character, considering she's six here and an adult in the series. I hope I managed. . . . Anyway, yes, my Orion is a genealogist. He has to be, since you need to give Regulus _some_ kind of route to necessary information, and no one wants to read about him combing through old books. Mizz Moony Luver: Thanks, and I'm glad you thought Bella and Regulus's interaction was good; she's a really tough character to write. Isis Flamewing: I do intend this as a "missing chapter" fic rather than an AU, and I'm glad you like it. And thank you so much to everyone else who dropped me a line, and to anyone who cares to review this chapter! Cheers! — Loki 


	3. The Gaunt File

A few minutes later half of Orion's expansive file on the Gaunt family was spread across the coffee table, and something had knocked over the bottle of essence of dittany, which was seeping into a stack of notes. Orion didn't seem to mind or even notice, but he was flipping single-mindedly through another sheaf and always kept a backup file on the expectation that something would happen to the first, anyway. Nym had saved a stack of photographs from the liquid and was now flipping curiously through them as their subjects— mostly paintings— waved cheerfully at her.

Regulus was slumped back against the couch with his eyes half-closed. It had been an incredibly long night, and it wasn't over yet, so he was determined to enjoy a few moments of peace while his father and Nymphadora were otherwise occupied.

"Ah, here we are."

Regulus sat up and took the proffered piece of parchment. It proved to be a short biography. "Merope Gaunt," he read. "1905 through circa 1925. So she died about the time Mum was born. Your point?"

"She was the last recorded member of the Guant line."

"And. . . ?" Regulus asked, before his tired brain caught up with his mouth. "Wait a second . . . last _recorded_ member?"

"Read it, why don't you?" Orion suggested with a slightly wry smile. He shifted his great-niece on his lap. "What've you got there, dear? Oh, I think that's supposed to be Salazar himself, although since its untitled and undated it's kinda hard to tell. . . ."

Regulus shook his head, likewise smiling slightly. At least there was one more recognized member of his family to whom Nymphadora was Meda's daughter and not just a little half-blood girl with a funny name. He let his father's spiel fade into the background and scanned the bio. "Merope ran off with a Muggle? That doesn't sound like the rabidly pureblooded."

"Meda's pureblood."

"But she's not foaming at the mouth, and anyway, she married a Muggle-_born_. She had some way of meeting him. And it says this Muggle walked off on her about a year after the marriage, and then she seems to have wasted away, which certainly doesn't sound like Theodore Tonks _or_ Andromeda," Regulus added, nodding to Nymphadora.

"There was a theory among the Muggles that he'd married her because she told him she was pregnant with his child," Orion answered.

"I can't see anyone walking out on their own son, and anyway that's only a theory."

"True, but she might really _have_ been pregnant. People— wizards and Muggles both— sometimes do incredibly stupid things and then refuse to deal with the consequences, after all. But since there's no recorded proof, I have to classify it as just a rumor," Orion answered softly.

"Yes?" Regulus asked.

"You're not thinking, kid."

"I'm too tired to think right now, Dad!" he exploded, and slumped back on the couch rubbing his temples. "Just tell me, please?"

Orion shook his head. "The baby. A half-blood, a descendant of Salazar Slytherin, and someone without the last name Gaunt, which I suspect your Dark Lord would have been proud of had he had it."

"Oh." Now Regulus just felt stupid for not putting it together.

A slow, grim smile spread over Orion's face. "I think your Dark Lord is lying, certainly, but not about his Slytherin ancestry. I think it's his father's side of the family he's concealing. I think he's a half-blood. Tell me: have you ever heard his last name?"

"I don't think so."

"There you are, then."

"Oh." Regulus didn't know what else he could say, because suddenly his father's mild logic was making Bellatrix's passionate beliefs sound more stupid than they already did. The man was murdering his own kind, but doing it cleverly enough that no one even realized it. . . . "You know, I don't think he ever actually _told _anyone he's pureblood."

"Well, it's an assumption people would tend to make upon hearing he was descended from Salazar. You could make different one's with the other three founders, Godric Gryffindor's in particular is full of intermarriage with Muggles, and I _think_ Blacks've got a little Ravenclaw blood— I _wish_ your great-grandmother hadn't blown every Ainsley off the tree after the scandal with Victoria Ainsley or I'd know for sure. . . ." Orion seemed to realize he was on a tangent and shook his head. "But . . . well . . . Slytherin's always been different in that respect." He shrugged. "He's probably never said it just in case he meets a Legilimens."

"I doubt it. He's an Occlumens and a damn good Legilimens himself. It wouldn't surprise me if he just likes having the power of suggestion over people. Letting them assume the lies and then being able to prove he told them nothing but truth."

"Twisted," Orion muttered.

"You're one to talk," Regulus told him. "You let Sirius think for years that you agreed with everything Mum said. _I'd_ still think you did if I hadn't caught you looking uncomfortable during some of her speeches on the way the world's going to the dogs."

"That just made things easier on everyone, Reg."

_Everyone, or just you?_ Regulus couldn't help but think. _Yeah, Sirius would have still left to get away from Mum even if you took his side on occasion, but still . . . you could have but you never did._

Fortunately, before Regulus could voice any of the accusations running around in his head, Nymphadora spoke up. "Who're you two talking about?"

"Sirius or the Dark Lord?" Orion asked.

"I know who my cousin Sirius is," Nym answered. "Is— is the other guy—"

"He's someone I hope you never meet," Orion answered with a note of finality in his voice. A real answer was clearly the last thing on his mind. "And if you're staying the night because we don't know where your parents are, we should have put you in bed first thing." He stood up, half-swinging the girl over his shoulder with a grunt. Anna mewed in alarm and leapt from Nym's arms to Regulus's as Orion made his way to the stairs.

Regulus sighed and stroked his cat. "It's been quite the night, hasn't it?" he mumbled to her. And he still had yet to decide what to do now that he knew the beliefs he'd adopted for his mother's sake were being championed by a charlatan.

A few minutes later, Orion came back down the stairs. "I haven't done that since you were her age," he muttered, rubbing his shoulder. "I think I'm getting too old."

"Well, if forty wasn't too old, why's fifty?" Regulus asked automatically, seizing the opportunity to think of something else.

"Don't remind me I'm nearly half a century," Orion told him. He started to pick up the Gaunt file, cursing under his breath when he found the stack of dittany-ruined notes. Orion's organizational skills were about on par with Sirius's, and their usual method was to shove everything into the same file and hope nothing fell out, so eventually he tossed the notes aside, shoved in the other papers, and leaned the file against the coffee table. Then with a flick of his wand, he cleaned up the dittany and glanced back at his son. "What's wrong, Reg?"

"What?"

"I said 'What's wrong?'" Orion answered. "You just look pensive, and believe me when I say that's not a normal look for an eighteen-year-old boy."

"Nothing!" Regulus answered, a little too defensively.

Orion arched an eyebrow.

His son sighed, decided to be honest, and then discovered that he couldn't find the words to explain the thoughts scattered in his brain or the enormous weight that seemed to be making itself comfortable on his chest. He eventually settled for, "A lot happened tonight."

"Ah."

Regulus glanced back to see that it was Orion's turn to look pensive and arched an eyebrow of his own.

"That means, I assume, that you don't want to tell me."

"I already told you most of it," Regulus muttered uncomfortably, rubbing his shoulder. Orion's healing spells had taken care of the scrapes and the bruising, but had left the dull ache of stiff muscles.

"You told me what happened, yes, but for the most part you sounded like a Daily Prophet report," Orion answered, running his fingers distractedly through his mostly gray hair. "You never told me what you thought of it. I'm going to assume, then, that you either don't know or don't want to talk about it."

It was the former, and something about the way he said it also implied Orion knew it. Regulus thought his father could be annoyingly perceptive sometimes.

A few more seconds passed in uneasy silence.

"Dad?" Regulus asked tentatively.

Orion glanced back over. "Yes?"

"Nothing. Just, well . . . I know you don't think what Mum thinks about the pureblood politics," Regulus answered softly, still fumbling for the right phrasing. "So . . . what _do_ you?"

Orion sighed and reached up to his glasses. Regulus just knew he was going to avoid the question— after all, he'd picked up that particular telling habit from his dad. "Your mother's an idealist, Reg, and one of the reasons I don't agree with her is that I'm not."

"_Daad_. Please, just once, answer the question."

Orion sighed. His hand still didn't come back down from his glasses, but his frown was a thoughtful one. Regulus just hoped he wasn't thinking about how to best circumvent this conversation.

Finally, he sad quietly, "Our world's changing whether the aristocracy wants it to or not. The same thing happened to the Muggle one a long time ago. Yes, old money speaks for itself and it tends to be attached to old blood, and Mudbloods are just never going to have the precedent we do, but we can only slow it down." He shrugged. "I don't doubt all the violence, really, is just making it change faster. You can only hold people down so long."

"And you claim you don't know much about politics."

"That isn't politics, it's human nature, and I'm a _historian_," Orion answered with a shrug.

Regulus nodded vaguely and silence settled heavily back down on them.

After a couple minutes of it, Orion gently put a hand on his son's shoulder. "Those weren't the answers you were looking for, were they?"

"I . . . don't know." He shrugged moodily and toyed with his glasses. "Any idea what happened to Ted and Meda?" he added, more to change the subject that anything else.

"Not a clue," Orion answered. "You talked to her last."

"I wouldn't have asked if _I_ had any idea," Regulus answered. "Still, we'd better start asking around. We want to get her home before Mum comes back, after all, and anyway, Meda's going to be frantic when she finds the girl gone."

"True, that," Orion agreed. "I'll ask a couple of people next time I'm in Diagon Alley."

Regulus nodded and yawned widely. Anna echoed him.

"And I think Nym's not the only one who needs some sleep around here," Orion added. "Get to bed, you and the cat both. It's nearly midnight, and frankly I could do with some myself."

As if she understood, Anna crawled onto Regulus's shoulder and began purring in his ear, and after a moment Regulus got to his feet. "All right, Dad," he muttered, pulling his glasses off and rubbing his eyes.

"Bed," Orion repeated. "It _has_ been a long night after all."

**

* * *

Author's Note:** Yeah, I know, comparitively short chapter, designed to answer a few questions and get the characters to bed before I get the plot rolling in the morning. Well, I am glad I don't have to pull out the lengthy explanation for why Orion had to be Orion. . . . Being nearly as paranoid as he is, I actually have one, after all, although to tell you the truth, Orion's been a slightly paranoid, not-too-sure-about-his-wife's-philosophy geneaologist since I got back into fanfiction after HBP. _Anyway_, I'm beginning to suspect I might be capable of regular updates for this one, but don't be surprised if I can't. Gwinna: You're right, of course. Nym has been a bit quiet . . . I promise she starts to open up next chapter, really. And thank you to everyone else who dropped me a line! Cheers! --- Loki 


	4. Personal History

He'd never been able to cast the Unforgivables. Bella had always told him he needed to focus or mocked him for it, but Regulus thought he had a pretty good idea why. He squirmed when he saw even animals in pain (although frankly he preferred cats to people), so there was no way he could cast the Cruciatus. People weren't tools to him, so the Imperius was also out.

As for the Killing Curse? He might not like very many people, but he didn't _hate_ anyone nearly enough.

At the same time . . . he'd felt the Cruciatus; it was Voldemort's favorite punishment when his followers displeased him. He'd met people under Imperius, which was awkward, since he always knew it was Bella or Lucius or Rabastan or Rodolphus or Dolohov who was answering in their stead. And goodness knew he'd seen the green flash of light when someone killed in front of him enough times for an army of thestrals.

Those things had decided to haunt his dreams tonight. It seemed that every time he turned his head that Bella was standing there with that look on her face, the one she'd been wearing right before he'd Apparated away with Nym. But that was preferable to the other one, the cold, emotionless mask she wore when she killed. It wasn't murder to her, Mudbloods weren't people. . . .

Between glimpses of Bellas, it seemed that every scare he'd gotten since taking the Mark had come back to haunt him— dementors, Inferi, giants. . . . Twice he felt his arm burn and jolted awake, scrabbling at the sleeve of his nightshirt to make sure it was only a dream and Voldemort wasn't _really_ calling his followers, but it was only its usual dull red and not black on both occasions.

Anna cuddled next to his chest and purred, but her warm presence wasn't enough to drive off the nightmares tonight.

Cursing himself for being this weak after the second time the burning had woken him up, he slid into his slippers, gathered the tabby in his arms, and padded down the hall to— as he told himself— make sure Nymphadora had gone to sleep.

She hadn't. She was seated upright on the bed, picking at the Fwoopers embroidered on the comforter. Regulus had always hated that thing, and in a comment more like Sirius than himself, had informed his Aunt Lucretia that anyone who slept under it was going to be driven insane because that was what Fwoopers did. Fortunately he'd been six at the time, so everyone had thought it cute.

"Can't sleep?" he asked quietly, sitting down next to her. "Or nightmares?"

Nymphadora raised an eyebrow.

Regulus shrugged. "Well, if Bella threatened to kill _me_, I'd be having nightmares."

Anna leapt out of his arms to pounce on a Fwooper, and sat prodding it for a few moments as if she expected it to run away. When it didn't, she lost interest and curled into a ball on Nym's lap to go back to sleep. Nym patted her absently and shrugged. "I just can't sleep."

"There's got to be a reason you can't."

"I'm worried. About Mum and Dad."

Regulus shook his head. He wasn't sure what to say in a situation like this. "Well . . . we know they're alive," he told her. "Otherwise someone would have put the Dark Mark up and everyone'd know about it."

Nym shook her head.

Regulus realized he'd probably used the wrong tactic, but he didn't know how to tell someone everything would be all right when that was completely against the odds. Finally, he just asked, "Have you _tried_ going to sleep?"

"Not really."

"Maybe that's why, then." Regulus leaned over and flicked her braid over her shoulder. "C'mon. You, at least, need eight hours of sleep and I'm not going anywhere until you're snoring."

Nym shook he head but sank down under the covers. "I think I'm not the one you were 'fraid was having nightmares," she murmured.

Regulus shook his head. "Perceptive," he muttered.

Nymphadora heard him. She propped herself up by the elbow, staring at him. "What were they about?"

He wasn't _about_ to explain to this girl that he was a Death Eater, just not nearly so rabid as Bellatrix and in fact not even sure if he still wanted to be one. He didn't want her to be afraid of him. So he did what his father was good at and circumvented the question. "Bella scares me when she does that," he whispered. "She scares me a lot. . . . And well, I guess I did used to go climb into Sirius's bed when they happened when I was little."

"Oh." She settled back underneath the covers. "Still not going away until I'm snoring?"

"No, but I may put I Silencing Charm on you if you choose to hound me with questions about my nightmares," Regulus answered, likewise stretching out on the bed. Anna crawled onto his chest, purring slightly.

He really wasn't sure which one of the three fell asleep first.

☐☐☐

"Ungh?" Regulus asked. Someone had been shaking him for the last few minutes, and he'd finally woken up enough to respond.

"Come on!" Nym exclaimed. "It's nine o'clock, and you fell asleep on my bed!"

Regulus not only decided to go back to sleep on her bed but to usurp her pillow, which he pulled over his aching head. "I need five hours of sleep a night, and I didn't get to sleep til four," he grumbled.

"And now it's nine. That _is_ five hours of sleep," Nym informed him, tugging the pillow back off and poking him in the ribs.

With a groan, Regulus rolled over. Nymphadora was grinning at him and clutching Anna. At least, he thought it was Nym— same big gray eyes and heart-shaped face— but her hair was a vivid, neon blue. After a moment he decided that exhaustion and the side effects of healing potions were banding together to play tricks on his eyes and blinked several times. It didn't help. Feeling stupid, he asked, "Isn't your hair _brown_?"

"A lot of the time," Nym told him. "I changed it this morning."

"Is there any way you can change it back?" he asked. "I mean, no offense, but my head is killing me this morning. Sleep loss."

Nymphadora dropped the cat and screwed up her face. Her hair didn't go back to brown, but it did change into a much darker, more subtle shade of blue. In dim light, it could have been taken for black, and made her look like her mother's miniature. "That better?"

"Much." Regulus sat up, flexing his shoulders and the stiff, newly mended muscles in his chest. They still ached a bit, but the bandages could be taken off now. "Why don't you go down and bug Kreacher or Dad for breakfast or something? I need to get dressed."

She nodded and crawled off the bed.

"And why don't you take Anna with you?" Regulus mumbled. She had perched on his abdomen in a warm gray ball and begun purring, and the weight was making it much more difficult for him to convince himself to get up.

Nymphadora picked up the cat and left the room, leaving him with no excuse but his exhaustion to go back to sleep. But he'd never let either Sirius or his father get away with that excuse, and if Nym really was half Black she'd probably be back up in five minutes to make sure she'd gotten her way.

The prospect of her coming back in with some other ludicrously neon hair color was probably what convinced him to get up in the end. He wasn't even entirely sure why it bothered him so much; it wasn't as if he had drunk enough last night for a hangover.

He showered to wake himself up thoroughly— and partially in hopes of steaming away his headache— before throwing robes on and wandering down to his father's office.

Orion wasn't there, and Regulus took advantage of the fact to leaf through a bit more information on the House of Gaunt. None of them seemed to be particularly savory characters, and a few reminded him uncannily of what Sirius used to grumble about _their_ family. He half-resolved to ask his father if Araminta Meliflua had _really_ tried to make Muggle-hunting legal and went to go looking for Orion.

Orion was in the parlor with the _Daily Prophet_, flipping idly through the front pages. Regulus joined him on the couch. "Anyone we know in the obituaries?" he asked quietly. It was a common enough question now— common enough that complete strangers had walked up to him in pubs and asked if they could borrow the obituaries for a few minutes— but it still always made him nervous.

"Fortunately not."

Regulus nodded and after a moment felt comfortable enough to continue the conversation. "Um, Dad . . . aren't Metamorphmagi genetic?"

"Rather abrupt change in subject, don't you think?" Orion asked absently. He lowered his paper. "But, yes, they are. They and Seers're the opposite side of the inbreeding coin from Squibs; they pop up more often in pureblooded families."

Regulus nodded. "Any in the Black family?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Nym was changing hair colors in front of me," Regulus answered, shrugging. "Bright, neon blue, and I already had a headache. It's not like she'll have a spell for it at six."

Orion nodded and bit his lip. "Hm . . . I think Ursula Flint-Black— Phineas's wife— was one. Hey, Phineas!"

There was a shuffling before Phineas Nigellus— Orion's great-grandfather, sidled into the landscape that hung over the fireplace, scowling. "Hullo, Orion. What, may I ask, led you interrupt—"

"Something very important, I'm sure," Orion answered dismissively. "Wasn't your wife a Metamorphmagus?"

"Yes, she was," Phineas answered, shrugging. "She did the most horrible things with her appearance when I was in the grip of a terrible hangover and she wanted me to promise her I'd never drink again— to the point where I'd promise anything just to get her appearance back to something demure. Why do you ask?"

"Your great-great-great-granddaughter has been traumatizing Reg with neon hair colors, apparently," Orion answered.

"I have a relative with three greats?" Phineas asked, bemused.

"Andromeda has a six-year-old."

"Ah. I'm glad Walburga finally matured enough to let the girl back into the family fold."

"She didn't. We don't know how to find Meda and Wally's not here," Orion answered quietly. He was suddenly uncomfortable himself, and reached as surreptitiously as he could for his paper.

"Remind me why the girl was disowned again?"

"The same reason your mother disowned Isla, apparently," Orion answered quietly.

"Who?" Regulus couldn't help but ask.

"My sister," Phineas answered shortly. "To say the least, the Blacks seem to have an aptitude for breeding vicious matriarchs. Give my regards to Andromeda when you find her, Orion; she was the only one of you to ever show up in my old office for something _positive_. . . ." With that, he stalked back out of the portrait.

"I'm going to have to ask him about Isla sometime," Orion said quietly. "And his older brother, Sirius. The only one he's ever willing to talk about is Elladora. I think the other two hurt even a portrait."

Regulus raised an eyebrow.

"Sirius didn't live to ten. And from what I can tell, Isla was Phineas's favorite," Orion answered. He glanced st his son. "Pity what the world can do to close siblings who take different paths."

Regulus nodded. There was something in his father's glance that implied Sirius— _his_ Sirius— as well as Phineas and his sister.

At that moment the doorbell rang, making them both jump.

Before Regulus could get to his feet, there was a crack as Kreacher appeared to answer it, and after a moment Regulus heard Bellatrix asking after him. He had been half-expecting this after the previous night; she was either going to kill him, yell at him, or apologize for being a violent drunk. "Nym," he muttered.

"I think she's in the kitchen. I'll go find wherever she is and keep her there, though, shall I?" Orion asked. When Regulus nodded vigorously he folded the paper and got to his feet, passing Bella on his way out and her way in.

"You don't have to leave, Uncle Orion," she told him.

"Perhaps not for privacy reasons, but there is something I need to find," Orion answered with a shrug. Regulus wished he could mislead Bellatrix half so casually.

"If it's your wand, check your pocket."

"It's not," Orion muttered grumpily. "I'm old, _not_ senile." Then he stalked from the room with a look of wounded dignity.

Bella rolled her eyes and proceeded to the nearest easy chair, where she sat down. "I suppose you know what this is about, Regulus?" she asked, her voice dropping to a lower tone, more threatening and less fond exasperation.

"I have some idea, yes." At least she hadn't been sent to kill him, if she hadn't intended to send his father out. After all the times he'd lost his nerve and told her not to hurt someone, Regulus had wondered.

"What did you do with the girl?"

"I took her home," he answered, as casually as possible. There was no need to tell his cousin _who's_ home he took her to, although he remembered how Sirius could always tell he was lying as he reached up to his glasses.

Bella was either not as observant or thought his nervousness was due to having disappointed her. "If you see Meda again, tell her she'd better keep her husband and daughter close to her if she wants them to survive," she said. "You're not going to always hold me back."

"Am I not?"

"You'd better not. Why did you in the first place?"

_It was a moment of weakness, and it won't happen again_. The words presented themselves in his mind, and he was half-tempted to use them. Then again, Bellatrix knew how important family— even Meda and Sirius— were to him, so she probably wouldn't buy it. He settled, as usual, for the truth. "Because I wasn't going to let you kill my second cousin— your niece— in front of me."

Bella sighed and leaned back. "I see that Uncle Orion's insistence in including _everyone_ in his family trees has been a disadvantage for you," she said. "Learn this: just because they have our blood does not make Meda and Sirius family. They betrayed us. And if you can't learn that, I might just have to make those lessons more physical."

With that, she swept out of the room. The door slammed as she let herself out before Disapparating.

Silence settled around him for a moment before Orion came back in. "Nymphadora's having breakfast in the kitchen," he announced. "Erm. What did Bellatrix want?"

"To threaten me."

"Oh." Orion hesitated again. "Well, I need to go into Diagon Alley and get a couple of things from a library. If you want to be left alone to think, I can take Nym with me and set Kreacher cleaning out the attic or something."

"No. The libraries you frequent have practically everything, don't they, Dad?" Regulus asked. "Even Hogwarts records?"

"I believe so. Why?"

"I think I'll go with you. I know I don't have much to go on, but I want to know exactly who the Dark Lord really is."

**

* * *

Author's Note:** All right, slightly longer chapter, although it was again more back story orientated than plot orientated. Oh, well, you'll notice I have a great fondness for back story at some point, and I will be sliding more of Orion's in at the corners, partially so you know where he's coming from and partially because I like him. Isis Flamewing: I'll go change that word-choice issue now, shall I? Thanks for pointing it out. Everyone else, thanks so much for reviewing! Cheers! — Loki 


	5. Records of the Past

Nymphadora had not really needed to be told that she didn't want to spend the bulk of the day alone with Kreacher at Grimmauld Place, what with the muttering the house elf had already started about what his mistress would think about the company. Orion had pretended to be puzzled about this and asked Kreacher why _his_ thoughts on what went on his own house mattered so little.

One thing Kreacher was not was stupid, and he recognized the look Orion wore when he was teasing his sister or his wife. Still, he couldn't get angry with his master the way Walburga or Lucretia could and had stalked down to the wine cellar to sulk.

"I'm not going to be able to get him to do anything for the rest of the day, am I?" Orion asked mildly as the elf disappeared down the steps.

"The rest of the week, more like," Regulus told him. "The only person he'll let patronize him is Mum, remember? Everyone else he mutters at and disappears."

"And Wally patronizes _everyone_," Orion added. He looked over at a mystified Nym and grinned slightly. "Let's get to Diagon Alley, shall we? No use mourning over what you can't change."

Nym nodded hesitantly, as if she wasn't quite sure what Orion was talking about. Orion started to pick her up, muttered something about his back, and set her back down. She giggled. "You sound like Grandpa."

"Cygnus? Oh, you mean the Tonks one. I don't suppose you've ever met Cygnus." Orion shook his head and changed the subject. "The address's 199 Diagon Alley, Reg. Erm . . . do you think Nymphadora—"

"_Nym_."

"—should go with one of us?"

Before Regulus got the chance to reply, Nym crossed her arms sullenly over her chest and announced, "I _know_ how the floo network works."

"Oh. Good."

Regulus lifted Anna off her usual perch on his shoulders and handed her to Nym. "Then you can take the cat."

Orion raised an eyebrow, and as Regulus straightened he explained, softly enough that she wouldn't hear and protest. "Sirius and I both ended up in Knockturn trying to get to Diagon at least once. If she does, Anna's more likely than a six-year-old to recognize and attack a Dark wizard."

"What have you been doing for the past six months to make you so suspicious?" Orion asked him.

Regulus shrugged. "Practically everything," he admitted, grabbing a handful of floo powder and stepping into the flames.

He emerged in the shop, followed quickly by Nymphadora and Anna and finally by Orion, who came out brushing the soot from his hair and muttering about how much he hated traveling that way. "Most of the records are upstairs if you still want to look for the Dark Lord's, Reg," he answered, glancing over at Nym. "Do you think she'll be fine if we let her wander the shelves on her own?"

"Dad, this isn't _Knockturn_," Regulus reminded him. He glanced around the shop, which was fairly small and lined with floor-to-ceiling shelves, on which sat an assortment of old, leather-bound books. "She's not going to be attacked, and I'm going to leave Anna with her anyway. And from the looks of it, you probably know the owner fairly well, so if you asked him to keep an eye on her. . . ."

"Yeah, I really ought to. I'll meet you upstairs if you think you'll need my help."

Orion went off to find the clerk. Nymphadora had knelt down to pet what looked like a kneazle, which had emerged from behind one of the shelves to glower at the intruders on this library's peace. Regulus shook his head and started up the steps.

Upon opening the door he was attacked by what seemed to be a squadron of paper airplanes. The parchment they were made out of was old, soft, and yellowed with age, but whatever spell they had on them was a persistent one, and they continued dive-bombing him as he swatted them away.

Orion came in behind him. "Damn. I'd forgotten about the pamphlets."

"The what?"

"The pamphlets," Orion repeated. "Catch one and scan it; they'll leave you alone."

Regulus raised an eyebrow but snatched one out of the air and leafed through it. It was a pamphlet in support of a vote of no confidence in a Minister of Magic he'd never heard of, and dated 1843. "What?"

"From what I understand, in the old days people used to print them, spell them, and set them loose in Diagon Alley to force likely-looking passerby to at least look at them," Orion explained with a shrug. "I have no idea whether or not it was an effective means of propaganda."

"Why isn't the street swarming with them now, then? Considering the current political climate?" Regulus wanted to know. The pamphlet wriggled out of his hands, folded itself back into an aerodynamic shape, and joined its fellows in the rafters.

"I think the spell was lost in one of the London Fires during the Industrial Revolution," Orion answered with a shrug. "It never was particularly widespread, thank Merlin. Can you imagine what some of the papers floating around here now would _say_?"

Regulus started to roll his eyes, but when he thought of some of the things Bellatrix or Lucius might write down if they knew they could force people to read it, he shuddered instead. "It's probably still better than all the violence."

"I dunno. Words _last_," Orion pointed out. "Anyway, every couple of weeks or so I'll run into a funny little wizard up here chasing after them. He's determined to figure out how they work." He pulled down a massive book, groaned, and heaved it onto the desk.

"That thing has got to weigh at least as much as Nymphadora does," Regulus observed absently.

"Why do you think I was complaining that there's something wrong with my back?" Orion asked wryly. "I certainly haven't picked you or Sirius up in well over ten years. If I were you I'd start checking records about 1910. If he were much older than that, he would have started causing real trouble sooner."

Regulus nodded, and after a minimum amount of searching discovered that the records, dating back to about 1200, were stuffed into their shelves roughly in chronological order. That was, however, the only order they seemed to be stuffed in. Seventy-year-old _Daily Prophets_, political pamphlets, and various magazines and photographs dominated the shelves, although he did find a few copied lists of Hogwarts students and staff.

He'd worked his way painstakingly through 1935 before he thought he might have found something. "Hey, Dad?" he asked. "What was the name of the Muggle Merope Gaunt ran off with?"

Orion looked up from his tome and reached up to push his glasses back up his nose. "Erm . . . Riddle, I think. Why?"

Regulus handed him the list in his hands, and Orion scanned it. "I'm an idiot," he said finally.

"What makes you say that?" Regulus asked him.

"Well, among other things, I've trained myself to recognize surnames, and I'm probably as bad about asking for connection conformations as Slughorn is. It's part of my job," he explained. "For another thing, I went to school for a few years with Tom Riddle. He was a year ahead of your mother, prefect my first year, Head Boy my second. And he was an ass. A charming ass, though, the kind of kid that can get away with murder. . . ." He faded off and bit his lip.

"What?" Regulus asked.

"Nothing," Orion answered, shaking his head. "I'll just bet you ten to one that he did. Anyway, Slughorn kept saying that we'd be hearing big things from him after school and then he disappeared off the face of the earth. But actually . . . he just changed his name."

Regulus whistled under his breath.

"And I thought I _knew_ what happened to all the Slytherin graduating classes when I was in school," Orion muttered. "I can't believe I forgot about Tom Riddle. As far as we knew at the time he was Muggle-born, and he was popular. There aren't a whole lot of Mudblood Slytherins like that."

He stared at the list for a few moments before handing it back. "Well . . . that explains a few things," he added under his breath.

"Not nearly enough," Regulus retorted. "I mean . . . if he was head boy there ought to be a bit more I can find about him in school, but. . . . That's about it."

"I don't know . . . it's amazing what you can dig out in a place like this if you take the time," his father said mildly.

"Dad, I don't know if I _have_ the time!" Regulus exclaimed.

Orion blinked, and as if he knew the answer wouldn't please him, his hand rose automatically to his spectacles. "What makes you say that? It's not as if there's some kind of deadline you have, is there?"

Regulus sighed. He'd had the feeling that he'd have to confide this in _somebody_ since he'd come to the conclusion himself. "I . . . I can't cast any of the Unforgivables, Dad. It seems like everyone else can . . . but . . . but I just don't hate anyone enough. That _is_ enough to get me killed in the Dark Lord's ranks. I was half afraid Bella might be planning to do me in when she came around this morning, after the deal with Nym last night."

He glanced back up at his father to see Orion staring at him with his fingers bordering one lens and his lip bit. "I think. . . ." Orion said after a moment, "I think it might be time to tell me a little bit more of what goes on whenever you come home late."

"Not here, Dad. Not now. I will tonight."

Orion nodded.

It was fortunate he agreed to postpone the conversation, because as he nodded another voice floated up the stairs. "Orion! Will you get down here and figure out something to do with your great-niece for me!"

Both of them jumped, but after a few moments Orion smiled slightly. "That would be Augustus," he announced. "He spooks easily, but it should still be interesting to see what Nymphadora did to merit his hysterical attention."

☐☐☐

It turned out not to be so much what Nym had done but what Anna had, since the tabby had found herself at the top of one of the less stable bookshelves, sent a stack of papers flying to the ground, almost taking her with them, and gotten too frightened to move. Nym had pushed over a ladder to climb up and get her, but she'd toppled off it before she got halfway up. The thump had scared the wits out of the librarian.

Orion had calmed Augustus down with a stream of well-chosen words, healed the bruises on Nymphadora's arm, and _Accio_-ed Anna down from the shelf, all in a couple of minutes. (Anna, who hadn't appreciated being spelled, had scratched his shoulder and leapt over to sulk in Regulus's arms.) Then he made an executive decision to stop both his and Regulus's research now and take Nymphadora over to Florean Fortescue's for ice cream.

They hadn't allowed cats inside, so Regulus and Anna had taken a seat with Nym under one of the umbrellas and began attempting to get her to stop blushing. It hadn't worked by the time Orion came back with sundaes, and she tried once again to apologize for causing a scene.

He waved it off impatiently. "I don't suppose your mother ever fell out of contact with your cousin Sirius, did she?" he asked.

Nymphadora shook her head.

"Well, that was nothing to the sort of scene he used to cause, and he didn't even do it by accident like you just did. He did it when he was bored. Don't worry about it."

She nodded, but he cheeks were still a little flushed.

Orion grinned crookedly. "Reg, help me illustrate my point, will you? You've got to have at least as many embarrassing stories about your brother."

"Bella's wedding," Regulus supplied.

"Merlin, I'd forgotten about that," Orion muttered.

"Why?" Nym demanded. "What happened?"

"Sirius and your aunt Bellatrix— yes, we're still talking about the lady you met last night— never really liked each other, so I don't suppose it's any surprise, really, that he got bored at her wedding reception," Regulus started. "But instead of doing what a normal thirteen-year-old might have done in the situation— like experimenting with the wine— he spooked Anna so she fell in a barrel of it." He stroked Anna's ears. "You weren't very happy about that, were you? Well, she threw a fit," he added to Nymphadora, "and in an attempt to make sure he didn't get anywhere near her for the rest of the night, she climbed on top of the griffin rampant that had been put out as the centerpiece. It promptly fell over and shattered, gaining the attention of the entire reception hall, which I daresay is what Sirius wanted. I'm just glad Anna wasn't hurt."

Orion chuckled. "Cygnus was about ready to kill him over that one."

"So was I," Regulus answered. "_He tried to drown my cat_."

"I'm not sure that was his actual goal," Orion pointed out. "Getting the attention of everyone in the room was far more usual for Sirius."

"He did stuff like that all the time?" Nym asked, wide-eyed.

"Well . . . yes. He was easily bored, and when he was bored he never seemed to be able to see why anyone else should be able to concentrate," Orion told her. "Of course, Bella's wedding was incredibly public and he had to know his mum was going to skin him for it, so it wasn't half as bad as some of the things he could get up to at home. . . ."

**

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Author's Note:** Apologies for my month-long hiatus, but the first few weeks of school were hectic for me and this chapter just didn't get written. I'll try to update every two weeks at least until the end of October, when I may return to regular weekly updates (but as stated, no guarantees). Anyway, Mizz Mooney Luver: Wouldn't he have, though? I can't honestly tell you how long this particular tale is going to last, but it will be novel-length. While actually answering some of the other questions asked in reviews would give away the ending, I'd like to thank everyone for leaving them and ask that if you got this far, please leave a note; it really does make my day. Now, I've got to go give SupportSeverusSnape a brick to throw at Bella and help Mizz Moony Luver load the cannon. . . . Cheers! — Loki 


	6. In Flourish and Blott's

"Are you looking for anything in particular?"

Regulus looked up with a guilty start and pulled his fingers away from _Titus Andronicus_. "Erm . . . no, ma'am," he mumbled.

Nymphadora giggled beside him. "You look like somebody just caught your hand in the cookie jar."

Regulus smiled wanly. He _felt_ like someone had caught his hand in the cookie jar, and it didn't help that Shakespeare inevitably reminded him of Andromeda and his Uncle Alphard, the two who had collectively introduced him to Muggle literature, which had been a guilty pleasure of his for years. "Well, actually, I was looking for my cousin— her mother," he told the woman, gesturing to Nym. "Maybe you know who she is? Andromeda Tonks?"

The girl blinked. "Well . . . Andromeda sounds vaguely familiar. . . ."

"Her maiden name's Black," Regulus added hopefully— Andromeda wasn't a very common name, and the quicker they got Nym back her parents, the better. Neither he nor his father really knew how to deal with a young girl, and he didn't care to contemplate what might happen if he didn't get her back before his mother came home from Scotland.

"She looks like this," Nym added brightly. She crossed her eyes and scrunched her nose in concentration, an expression that made Regulus cringe slightly, before her dark blue hair turned black and her eyes gray. The pug nose that best resembled her father's straightened into a Roman one and her features took on the characteristic Black sharpness. Watching it, Regulus had half a mind to ask her if changing her appearance hurt as much as it looked.

"How. . . ?" the woman started.

"She's a metamorphmagus," Regulus answered. "And please, we really do need to find her mother. _Does_ she look familiar?"

"Well. . . ." The witch bit her lip. "Actually, yes. She was the only pureblood wizard I've seen in the Muggle section, I think. But I haven't seen her in weeks."

Regulus shook his head. "No good, then. Thanks anyway."

The witch nodded and continued on. Regulus cocked his head, looking at Nym critically for a moment, before he commented mildly, "You're going to give someone a heart-attack doing that, you realize. Even in Diagon Alley, it's not considered normal."

Nym shrugged. "That's what Mum says."

Regulus shook his head. "I'm going to check the Defense Against the Dark Arts section and then we'll head back towards the Leaky Cauldron to meet Dad, all right?" he asked, putting a hand on her shoulder to gently guide her in that direction and scooping Anna off of her perch on the bookshelf.

The two were looking for Andromeda in Flourish and Blott's because Orion had declared that an at least preliminary search for the Tonkses was in order. He had gone to talk to Tom at the Leaky Cauldron— the barman had a good memory for faces and could usually put the pureblooded ones with names, particularly those at the center of the scandals Andromeda and Sirius had been. Most wizards stopped at the Leaky Cauldron when in Diagon Alley, and on the spur of the moment it was one of their better ideas.

Regulus and Nymphadora had decided to try a few of the shops that her parents frequented— she had supplied the Quidditch shop for her father and the apothecary, owl emporium, and bookshop for her mother. Regulus had rejected checking the apothecary and the emporium— most of the wizarding world had to pass through the two of them in the course of a week and Meda would have to be in there to be remembered. They had already checked Quality Quidditch Supplies— the clerk behind the counter was the proprietor's son, and while he'd said he knew Ted by sight, he'd also admitted he hadn't seen the man in over a week.

Regulus was hardly expecting better luck in Flourish and Blott's and thus far the world had not surprised him.

"Oi! Reg!"

"Oh, _hell. Dolph_," Regulus muttered, stiffening. He handed Anna down to Nym almost as if the cat were a shield and half pushed the girl between him and a shelf as he turned around to meet the speaker. Nym didn't argue with him.

Sure enough, Rodolphus Lestrange was headed his way.

"What are we going to do?" Nym asked, much less panicked than her older cousin.

"Er . . . look, put that morphing thing to use again," Regulus told her in a whisper, casting his mind around for a pureblood girl about her age. "Let's see . . . dark brown hair, pale blue eyes, freckles across a pug nose, high cheekbones, maybe an inch taller if you can manage it. You've got the right build now."

"'Kay," she mumbled, and after a second or two he felt her shoulder pushing against his elbow as she grew.

"Reg?" Rodolphus asked, now within earshot. He took in Regulus's panicked expression and grunted. "Hm. I didn't think Bella'd scared you that much."

The conversation that morning. . . . Thank goodness Rodolphus had an alternate explanation for his jumpiness. "She stopped just short of saying she'd kill me, Dolph," he answered dryly. "And when it's your cousin doing that it doesn't exactly foster a sense of security."

Rodolphus rolled his eyes. "Well, I didn't marry her for her people skills, that's for sure," he mumbled, shaking his head. "But come on. You know she exaggerates."

"I'm not sure how much she exaggerates anymore," Regulus muttered under his breath.

"She's not going to kill her cousin," Rodolphus told him. "Who've you got with you?"

Regulus moved out of the way, hoping Nym had gotten enough of his description right to fool Rodolphus in this comparatively dim corner of the bookshop. "Hi," she muttered, hugging Anna more tightly against her chest.

Rodolphus nodded to her and glanced curiously over at Regulus. "What on earth are you doing in a bookshop with Elaine Flint?" he asked.

Regulus shrugged. "I told her dad I'd keep an eye on her while he went and sorted something out between his sons," he answered as casually as he could.

"Wolfe needs to keep a tighter leash on those boys," Rodolphus muttered, shaking his head. "If he's not careful Marcus is going to be just as wild in a few years. Anyway," he added, his tone shifting from deploring to concerned, "did Bella really scare you that much?"

"I'm starting to wonder if she might be losing her touch with reality, Dolph," Regulus admitted under his breath. "I mean, sure, she's always been a fanatic, but I don't think she's been this obsessive over anything else. . . ."

Rodolphus shook his head. "And whether you're willing to admit it or not, kid, you've always scared easy, especially when it's Bella or that brother of yours doing the talking."

"Look at the precedence I've got that they mean what they say," Regulus retorted.

"True." Rodolphus shook his head again. "Well, I just wanted to make sure she didn't completely terrify you," he said. "So if you're all right?"

Regulus nodded. "Yeah. I probably ought to go see if Wolfe's done with the boys, so. . . ."

Dolph smiled. "Yeah." He glanced down at Nym. "I say you ought to kill your brother's before your dad can soften the blow, kid," he announced.

Nym giggled.

"Oh, and Reg? Next time I'll see if I can't head Bella off for you, calm her down a little."

Regulus nodded as he headed off. Rodolphus was good at calming Bella down— he was probably the only one, because the Dark Lord only tended to stir her up more.

He shook his head and regarded Nym's hastily constructed disguise. "You're lucky that he wasn't paying much attention and the light's not too good, you know," he told her. "I wasn't specific enough, and that hair's a shade or two too dark for Elaine's." He bit his lip. "Now, c'mon. I'll bet you Dad's finally gotten to the point with Tom, so before he goes looking for us let's get over to the pub and find him, shall we?"

☐☐☐

"All right, Reg, it's later. Now tell me what's been going on when you're out late with Bella and Dolph and Lucius," Orion announced, joining his son in the library. He sat down across the table from Regulus, who was leafing through the _Evening Prophet_ with a grimace on his face.

Regulus looked up guiltily. He'd started to hope that Orion had been preoccupied with other things and forgotten what he'd asked his son. "Where's Nym?"

"She's playing with Anna and a couple of toy soldiers I dragged out of the attic," Orion answered, but it didn't distract him. "Now, c'mon, you can't say I've ever pried before. Talk."

"No, I can say you've pried," Regulus muttered. "I just can't say you've pushed." Always before, after all, Orion had accepted a shake of the head as answer enough whenever Regulus had come home pale and shaking. It seemed he hadn't really wanted to know.

"_Reg_."

"All right, all right. But . . . Bella pulled me in fast, and it didn't help that Dolph was pulling in Rabastan at the same time," Regulus grumbled, even if it he knew it was an excuse. "It took me a little while to figure out that it wasn't . . . that it wasn't just a political party of sorts. That it was actually genocide. Against people like Meda. I didn't really think Bella would do that to her own sister— I don't think _Dolph_ realizes that she would do that to her own sister; he isn't nearly as rabid as she is, but. . . ."

"_What have you been doing_?" Orion repeated softly.

"I've found out that I can't cast the Unforgivables if my life depends on it, Dad— and one of these days it might," Regulus muttered, propping his elbows on the table and his face in his hands. "Can we just leave it at that? I promise you just about anything your imagination supplies will work."

Orion made a face. "My imagination might not be as vivid as Alphard's, Reg, but it still—"

"Most of the time I've been with Bella," Regulus mumbled into his hands. "Her imagination really _is_ as vivid as Alphard's. I'd tell her to start writing like him, but . . . I don't think anyone wants to read what she could come up with."

Orion shuddered. "Yeah. But . . . what now?"

"I can't do it anymore. I'm running out of time I can bide before people stop covering for me with the Unforgivables, and Bella _will_ kill me if I try to stop her killing someone again, and I can't sit back and watch after she tried to kill her own niece. I dunno what I'm gonna do to get out, but I've gotta do something."

"Hm. . . ." Orion propped his own elbows on the table and his chin on his hands, staring contemplatively at his son for a few minutes of silence. "Is that why you were trying to figure out who the Dark Lord was?" he asked.

"Yeah," Regulus admitted. "I mean, if one of them's invincible, it's got to be Dumbledore, right? I mean, he survived Grindelwald, and he's definitely over a hundred now. The Dark Lord's what? He was born in nineteen twenty. . . ."

"1924, a year younger than your mother," Orion supplied. "Let's see, it's 1979, so that'd make him. . . . fifty-five."

"I mean, he's got to have some way to get to him and . . . and dammit, Dad, I can't get out while he's in power, and if somebody doesn't kill him . . . well. . . ." He rubbed his temples and growled under his breath.

Orion raised an eyebrow.

"Sirius talked me into watching one too many cheesy Muggle movies with him," Regulus grumbled. "If nobody kill's him soon, he's going to have someone do me in, and if that happens I want to take a piece of him with me." He'd been trying to avoid thinking the thought to himself, but now that it was out of his mouth the decision was definitely made. There was actually something a little comforting about knowing he had the nerve to make it.

"You sound like your brother's Slytherin side," Orion muttered. "I just hope one of us can figure out a way to do it _without_ getting you killed, because like it or not you're not getting rid of me now, not when you need all the help you can get."

**

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Author's Note:** I'm sorry this took me a week longer than I expected it to --- between band and school, I just haven't had as much time as I would have liked, and I'm sorry if the last scene was a little cheesy; both of them did have to commit to doing _something_. Anyway, thank you to everyone who dropped me a line for a review --- yeah, the thing about Sirius and Anna at Bella's wedding was the opening scene of a fic that never got off the ground, so I'm glad it came to good use. So, any reviews for this chapter would be greatly appreciated! (While I'm not making any guarantees about this story and when it'll be updated soon, I'll try not to take a month about it). Cheers! --- Loki 


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